


I Made Reservations

by SouthHighSucks (RottenBoneThief)



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, No romance here tbh, Shady ass Gregory, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 15:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RottenBoneThief/pseuds/SouthHighSucks
Summary: A short piece out of a timeline/AU that I'm super fond of. Stan gets calls from Gregory, always from a different number, always months apart. They always end in the same mess. Mentions of sex, alcohol, and poor life choices. This is some super self indulgent rarepair hell.





	I Made Reservations

It’s a call he still gets. It’s rare, so rare that he forgets about it, usually. It’ll be months and the last fling will be far forgotten about, and then he’ll get the call. The call that reminds him.

“I made reservations” When he picks up the phone, he recognizes the voice, not the number. Gregory always changes phones, he says it’s commonplace in his work. Stan sighs, looking at the clock. He wants to hang up, but he can’t fight the smile that pulls at his lips.

“Where are we going this time?” It’s been exactly eight months since he’d last seen Gregory. The other had been overseas, working in an embassy, atleast that was what he had told Stan, and Stan never questioned him further. Gregory’s career had always been murky to him, all he knew was the other worked for the government, and sometimes, Stan wondered, if that was true at all. The way Gregory kept to himself, the way he hid behind a grin, the way he checked the locks on the windows and doors, and the way he taped a sticky note over Stan’s webcam everytime he came over made Stan wonder.

Was he crazy? Or was he some sort of an overseas arms dealer with ties to the mafia? Or, maybe, he really was just a government agent of some sort.

Either way, Stan didn’t pry. He used to try to get to know Gregory better, to ask him questions, but it had been made clear to him Gregory didn’t want to talk about himself and Stan had come to accept that.

“That fondue restaurant I told you I’d gone to in Montreal? There’s something similar here in the states, I’d like to take you there. The portions are ridiculously sparse, but somehow, by the end of it all, it’s quite satisfying. And their drinks are to die for.” Gregory practically purred as though he’d rehearsed his speech and Stan nodded, listening to every word.

“Yeah, sure. Okay.” He said, as though he’d genuinely been considering turning the other down.

“Is seven too late for you?” Gregory’s words were pointed. If Stan said yes, it was too late, they would not be going, and he knew that. Gregory didn’t ask questions that had more than one answer. It was his answer or nothing.

“Seven works.” Stan confirmed, checking the clock one more time. 

“I’ll pick you up then. See you soon.” The line went dead before anything else could pass between the two of them and Stan sighed, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with his finger and thumb. He knew how this was going to go, the same way it always went. They were going to eat, Gregory was going to ask Stan a dozen questions about how his life was going, and then dodge any inquiries about himself. They’d have a few too many drinks and then either stumble their way to Gregory’s hotel room or Stan’s house, and fuck.

That seemed to be where these phone calls always landed Stan. He looked down at his phone, knowing if he called the number back no one would pick up.

He supposed he didn’t mind it too much


End file.
